


My Bonny Sailor

by Unreal_Kitty



Series: Sea Wolf AU [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Seawolf AU, Theonsa - Freeform, merfolk prompt, things are getting steamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22981213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unreal_Kitty/pseuds/Unreal_Kitty
Summary: A merling lass is fair of face, fierce of heart, and ever keen to drag a man down to his doom...or so the stories say.Theon takes a dip in Winterfell’s hot springs. Sansa decides to join him.Filling the “Merfolk” prompt for the March 2020 Theonsa challenge.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark
Series: Sea Wolf AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651594
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60
Collections: Theonsa Challenge 2020





	My Bonny Sailor

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of my Sea Wolf AU and occurs post The Sea Wolf Rises. It can stand completely independently from the original fic, but I do invite you to read the larger piece for added context and enjoyment.

Winterfell was famous for its hot springs. They lay directly beneath the inner keep, warming the walls as they ran steaming water through a clever network of pipes. Some say a dragon slept beneath the earth, heating the springs with its breath, although the maesters insisted the warmth came from a fiery mountain deep underground.

 _Perhaps both were true,_ thought Sansa as she padded barefoot through the godswood. _Stranger beasts have walked these halls, and stranger still dwell in deep waters._

Theon hadn’t described his post-mortem encounter with the Drowned God in much detail, but the little he had shared made Sansa shiver. “A man of many faces”, he had said, his sea-glass eyes a thousand leagues away. “He was Robb and Ramsey, and his hall was grave and grotto alike.”

Still, Sansa admitted, the god...creature….thing... had returned Theon to her, whatever it was. It sent Theon home. 

She spotted her husband floating on his back in one of the deeper pools, steam curling around his shoulders. In winter, people traveled from all over the North to visit the hot spring baths, but today they were empty, save the ironman. Sansa recalled how Theon would escape to the springs throughout their youth, to brood after receiving a rare letter from his father, or to cool off after a spat with Robb or Jon. 

“It’s almost like a lagoon,” he has once told her. “It’s not the ocean, but it still tastes of salt.”

Today, however, there wasn’t a trace of gloom on Theon’s face. His eyes were closed, his brow unfurrowed. Hearing her approach, he opened his eyes lazily. “You’re late,” he said, that old familiar half-smile playing across his lips. 

Much of the Theon from their childhood had been worn away by hardship and horror. But every so often, she’d spot the ghost of the boy in the crinkle of his eyes and in the twitch of his lips. 

Sansa did adore his lips. 

“A Queen is never late,” she replied with exaggerated dignity. “She arrives precisely when she means to.” 

Theon backflipped in the water, resurfacing to face her. “My apologies, your Grace. I simply was overly eager for the honor of your company.” His smirk deepened.

“And you shall have it, my lord.” Sansa shrugged off her shift. Theon made an appreciative noise. Sansa ignored him. 

She paused at the edge of the pool, concentrating, then neatly dove into the water with nary a splash. 

“Not bad, for a northern she-wolf,” said Theon when she resurfaced. 

“I am half-fish, after all.”

He eyed her Tully-red hair, soaked to a rich burgundy, and the tiny beads of water glinting on her fair skin. “Indeed.”

Theon grew closer, circling Sansa with the powerful strokes of a natural swimmer. “A right merling, you are. Fair of face and fierce of heart, and ever keen to drag a man down to his doom...or so the stories say.” He closed in from behind to massage her shoulders.

“Oh, you think I want to drag you to your doom, do you?

“Only one way to find out." He pulled into his arms, kissing the side of her neck, up her jawline. 

“Tell me more about these merlings,” said Sansa, as she closed her eyes and leaned back into Theon’s touch. 

“What would you like to know?”

“Well, on a scale of grumpkins to dragons, how likely are they to actually exist?”

“Oh, merlings aren’t legendary, they absolutely exist.” 

“Have you ever seen one?” asked Sansa, skeptical. 

“No.” He whispered his lips up her neck until she could feel his breath in her ear. “But I _have_ heard one.” 

“You jest.”

“Never.” 

“Tell me true, Theon.”

“I _am_. It was when we were crossing the Narrow Sea, my sister and I, with the fleet. To help, er….to help the Dragon Queen. At its narrowest, we had to sail past two sea cliffs, practically in single file.”

He warmed to the story, taking on a particular sing-song quality that reminded Sansa of Old Nan and her delicious tales of magic and adventure. 

“Three days it took to clear the dangerous cliffs. And each night, we could hear the singing as it echoed across the walls. Entire crews would race to railings, straining to spot the creature. They’d wrestle for spyglasses and climb over each other to reach the top of the crow’s nest. But never a single sea-maid did they spot. Yet the singing never stopped. 

Ah, what a voice the merling had, what splendor in her song. It was a woman’s wail and a lark’s springtime tune. It was laughter and pain, and the place where they meet.”

He paused and nuzzled the junction between Sansa’s neck and shoulder. 

“The wind,” argued Sansa, laughing at the sensation. “You heard the wind against stone.”

“Perhaps,” Theon admitted. “But perhaps merlings _are_ the wind against seastone. Perhaps they are the riptide that drags a man down."

“Gods, help me,” laughed Sansa. “I’ve married a bard.”

He shrugged in a charmingly careless way. 

“You asked.”

She laughed again. “Alright then, bard, sing me a merling song.”

Theon had a strong voice, she knew. In their youth, he took the role of the Pirate Lord very seriously. And on the Iron Islands, he had told her, stories were shared and history recorded not on scrolls of parchment, but in song. 

“Hmm,” said Theon. “How about ---no, not that one, too bawdy. Or maybe...oooh, not that one either. Perhaps... _Definitely not_. Aha! I have just the tune.”

He released Sansa and whirled to face her. 

_Seek, my bonny sailor  
The treasure in the tide  
For deep beneath the rolling waves  
We merling maids oft hide_

The tune was seductive, Sansa thought, rhythmic and smooth, like a lullaby charged with hidden heat. 

_Reach, my bonny sailor,  
With your strong and steady hand  
For win our hearts and you shall bind  
The sea to your command_

Without breaking the melody, Theon gathered her in his arms, pressing his forehead against hers. 

_So this is drowning_ , she thought. 

_Swim, my bonny sailor,  
Dive to make your claim  
For kiss a gentle merling lass  
And the winds shall sing your name._

With Theon supporting most of her weight, Sansa didn’t need both arms to keep her head above the water. She cupped his head in her hand. 

_Breathe, my bonny sailor,  
Then, handsome, hold me fast  
For your soul is made of salt and steel,  
That breath will be your last._

Sansa replaced the end of Theon’s final note with her lips. 

They kissed deeply and sank beneath the surface, together.

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to my dear friend Harry Dresden for her invaluable brainstorming, idea-bouncing, editing, and overall willingness to listen to be blather on about my OTP (which is NOT hers) for hours.


End file.
